iWork Out! Jealous?
by idancex33
Summary: Freddie starts to hit the gym in order to take on the school bully, Lance. Sam is his physical trainer. Enough said? That's what I thought. SEDDIE. R&R please! :
1. Prologue

**A/N: You guys have seen the lil icon with the skinny, dweebish kid flexing his 'muscles' that says 'I WORK OUT! JEALOUS???' Right? Yah, you have. Anyway, that's where the title for this came from. And most of the story idea. I think this is going to be my first REAL chapter fic, too! So this right here is the prologue, I suppose. Oh, and this is in Freddie's POV. Originally, it was going to be Sam's (I find her to be the easiest and most fun character to write). However… right when I started writing the first sentence a second ago, it came out as Freddie's POV. Then I realized that most fics on this site are in Sam's POV. So I'll try to be a little different. JEEZ ENOUGH OF THIS! On with the story!**

**Disclaimer: iDon't Own iCarly.**

There's no feeling like getting shoved into a locker, punched in the gut, and knocked to the ground. Really, I would know. I experience this feeling just about every day. You think the cause of my pain is Sam, right? Well, you're right… but she's not who I'm talking about here. I am talking about the biggest, baddest (excuse my poor grammar) guy in all of Ridgeway High: Lance Culver. Culver, as in 'pulver..izes.' Then add me, Freddie Benson, to the end of that.

I've become so familiar with the tile floors of our school, it's kind of ridiculous!

I don't even know why he does it. I've hardly said two words to the guy in my life, apart from when I'm screaming at him to get his foot off of my spleen. Today, though, it was my face. Yeah, I've always wanted a black eye to match my dress shoes. Real classy.

I immediately went over to Carly's after school; can't let my mom see that sucker! It'd either downright kill her, or cause her to practice some foreign healing technique on me. Both sound pretty horrible, honestly. Anyway, Carly freaked when she saw me and went into her 'mother-mode', as Sam, Spencer, and I like to call it.

"Oh my God Freddie! What happened to you?! It was Lance, wasn't it? Ugh, I hate him! Let me get you an ice pack. Aww, are you okay? Darn Lance and his big muscles!"

That's what it sounds like, in case you were wondering.

Carly and I were sitting on her couch, icing my eye and watching Girly Cow when the wonderful Sam (joke) decided to grace us with her presence, beef jerky in hand. She had this stupid little smirk on her face.

"Sup, Benson? Have a run-in with the Culv-ster today?" she asked, plopping down right beside me.

"Shh, Sam. He's been through enough," Carly scolded, and proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. Surprisingly, Sam didn't argue. She just rolled her eyes and sank into the couch. A couple of minutes of mindless television later, Sam finally thought of something to say. I swear her brain works half as fast as the normal human being's!

"You know, this wouldn't keep happening to you if you actually tried to fight back every once in a while," she said flippantly. Carly gave her a reproachful look and I think my jaw dropped. Me? Not fight back? She, of all people, should know that that's a completely absurd statement. What does she call our arguing every day? Granted, she always wins, but… alright, maybe that's her point.

"What are you talking about?" I bite. She smiles and sits up.

"I'm talking about you working out, losing some of that baby fat, building up some muscle and taking on Lance Culver," Sam replied, pinching my cheeks and poking my stomach. I grunted and swatted her hand away.

"What?! Sam, do you really think that's a good idea?" Carly leaned over me and stared disbelievingly at Sam.

"Yes," she and I answered simultaneously. We glance at each other quickly, and Carly put her hands up, almost defensively.

"Okay, do what you want. Just don't come crying to me when you get beaten to a pulp!" she teased, then got up and walked into the kitchen.

"Wow, Carls. Have a little confidence in the boy!" Sam laughed, slightly nudging me with her elbow. I frowned and nodded. Did Carly really doubt my strength? That was disappointing, to say the least. Not that she was wrong to think that I'd lose in a fight against Lance, but suddenly my number one priority became to prove herwrong. Before I could stop myself, words were pouring out my mouth.

"So Sam, are you going to be my physical trainer or something?" I heard myself say. What was wrong with me? Why on earth would I give Sam that power? I was giving her a thousand more ways to hurt me. God, I must've looked terrified as I met her gaze, awaiting her reply.

"If you're so eager, Frederly, I'd be happy to be your physical trainer!" she smiled and clapped her hands happily. Oh man, I had to save my butt.

"Wait, wait! This does NOT mean you get to like, give me 300 pound weights, make me run for hours, or—"

"Quit your whining! You will do as I tell you to do!" Sam cut me off. I seriously don't appreciate it when she does that.

"Only when we're in the gym!" I retorted. She rolled her eyes at me yet again.

"Duh, that's what I was talking about!" she yelled. We then began to argue using obnoxious noises. That's my favorite way to do it; I don't have to think of a good comeback.

"GUYS!" Carly shouted from her stool in the kitchen. Sam and I turned towards her with innocent grins on our faces. Carly didn't say anything else; she merely went back to eating her fruit kabob angrily. Personally, I think she's realized that there's no point in scolding us. Poor Carly.

Except it really should be "poor Freddie". I'm the one with Sam as my physical trainer!

Crap.

**A/N: Well guys, there's chapter 1. Or the prologue. Or whatever. It's most definitely not the best I could've made it, but I'm getting impatient. I also have a feeling that it'll get better as I go on. So yah, Freddie's going to be spending some extra time with Sam at the gym! This means equipment, weights, treadmills, swimming… and we'll see what else. ;) Alright, review please!! Thank you for reading!**


	2. Weights

**A/N: Sup guys. Thank you to those of you who reviewed. It's very much appreciated!(: I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to update! I've been super busy with Nationals and such… plus I didn't know exactly where I was going with this story. Hopefully I can pull it together, right? Right. K, as usual, PLEASE REVIEW!!**

**Disclaimer: iDon't Own iCarly.**

Oh, how my Thursdays have changed.

My old schedule consisted of me going to school, hanging out at Carly's, and then doing homework till the wee hours of the night. My new, Sam-ified schedule has me going to school and the gym. That's it. No, no, no. I don't think you understand the significance of that. Here, let me paint you a picture.

I now see Sam Puckett before school, in first hour, in fourth hour, at lunch, in seventh hour, between each class at our lockers, at Carly's after school, during iCarly rehearsals and shows, and at the gym for nearly five hours straight on Thursdays. Yeah, you heard me! FIVE HOURS. She claims that because I'm only working out one day of the week, I need to make the most of that day. As somewhat logical as that sounds, it sucks.

Sam decided that this week, we'd lift weights. Sorry, I meant _I'd_ lift weights and _she'd _stand around, making fun of me. Needless to say, I hate my life.

"Come on, Freddork! Put your back into it!"

"Argh! I am!"

"Then how come the weight isn't even off the ground?! People are probably thinking I'm an idiot just for thinking I can actually train you!"

It took every ounce of my very being not to knock her over and beat her senselessly with the weight. That is, if I could actually lift it.

"Can we please take a break, Sam?" I asked, panting heavily. She stared at me disbelievingly.

"Fine…" she sighed. I started to smile before she added quietly, "Wimp."

Really?! I didn't see her lifting 150 pound weights! She was literally just standing there, leaning against a random machine! Man, she really irks me.

"Oh, shut up! You can't talk!" I burst angrily as we headed for the water fountain. I had been failing miserably for 2 hours, listening to her point that fact out over and over again. My body hurt in places I didn't know existed, and I wanted desperately to not be looking at her face for a second longer.

"I'm talking right now, Benson! What are you going to do about it?" Sam taunted.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do, Puckett!"

We were definitely beginning to turn heads. I think it was my next move, though, that caught the attention of the entire room. I screamed (a manly scream, of course), grabbed her shoulders, and whirled her around so she was sitting with her back against the chair of a machine. I swear there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. Shame no one had a camera, right?

I then straddled the chair, facing Sam. My hands were still squeezing her shoulders as I looked down on her.

"You are going to start treating me with respect," I shook her, but not too violently. Her expression was unreadable. She wasn't scared anymore, but she didn't look as nonchalant as usual, either. I paused before continuing.

"You are going to help me as my trainer, not torment me," I demanded with another quick shake. The many eyes on the back of my neck were starting to creep me out. I had to make this quick.

"And you're going to get up and come to the water fountain with me right now," I finished, taking a step back and grabbing her hand. I led her past all of the shocked faces, and wondered what in the world had gotten into me. When we reached the fountain, Sam quickly pulled her hand away from mine.

"Uhm, what was that about?" she yelled quietly. Yeah, I didn't know you could do that, either.

"I-I don't know!"

Part of me felt guilty for blowing up at her like that in public. The other part of me absolutely did not regret a word I had said. I decided to stick with that part.

"I'm just sick of you walking all over me! You're supposed to be here to help me! The whole point of this is to get me in shape so I can fight Lance. If we aren't doing that, I don't want to be here. I mean, there's no other reason for me to be spending so much extra time with you."

Would you look at that?

I can yell quietly too.

Problem is, I wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. Sam looked a little crushed, and I immediately felt my heart sink. Why is it that any time she's sad, I get sad too?

"Fine," she finally said, just as my phone vibrated in my shorts pocket. I glanced at her before reading the text.

"It's Carly," I informed her. "She wants to know if you've managed to kill me yet." Sam laughed and I chuckled lightly.

"Tell her not yet, but we're just getting started," she nodded her head at me, smiling. I returned the smile. She is so bipolar.

In an unspoken agreement, we walked back to the weights section of the gym. I just thought I'd try my hand at suicide a few more times before calling it a day. You know.

Surprisingly, though, the rest of the workout went a lot better than I expected. Sam was actually encouraging me (despite her constant name-calling) and I was able to lift nearly every single weight I was given. That's right. Go me.

Even though I was pretty much paralyzed the next day, I think it was worth it. You cannot deny the huge monsters which are my arms. Sam, Carly, and a few random girls at school complimented my progressing new physique. They didn't call it that, of course. Carly and the random girls told me that my arms were looking nice. Sam? She walked up to me in the hallway, punched me in the arm, nodded, and sauntered off. Yep, I take that as a compliment. It's Sam, isn't it?

**A/N: Who else is excited for iMust Have Locker #239?!?! OH MY GOODNESS, I AM!!! Okay well, I noticed as I wrote this that all of my stories sound the same. It's not just that the style is the same, either. Like the "part of me said this, the other part of me said that" thing… Carly texting them, wondering if Sam killed Freddie… so hmm. Guess I need to become a little more original. Alright, then. REVIEW PLEASE! Thank you, thank you!**


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